#10
Our children re-connect us differently to the world. I didn’t know, for instance, that ‘shoe-gazing’ was a category of music until Conrad, younger of our two sons, explained – a little impatiently I thought - that it describes a prolonged guitar solo. The soloist stares downward – presumably deep in concentration – his gaze appearing to be focused on his shoes. I enjoy finding terms like that; words or phrases that concisely define or describe an activity. As labels go, ‘Shoe-gazing’ is at least as accurate as ‘Cubism’ ever was, or indeed ‘Impressionism’. Most of our many ‘isms’ were originally intended as critical dismissals – insults even. In time, these become adopted – sometimes gladly – by those at whom they were previously thrown. Take the label ‘Stuckists’[1] which was at first applied dismissively to a group of figurative painters. Tracey Emin is credited with screeching at them, “Your paintings are stuck, you are stuck! Stuck! Stuck! Stuck!” And the epithet, as it were, ‘stuck’. And, of course, Tracey should know. She boasts of having a First Class degree in Fine Art and someone’s published a book showing 1000 of her totally dreadful drawings. So, good for her and yah boo sucks (or should that be ‘Stucks’?) to the rest.
But hey, calm down dear, music hath charms so strum on. On Thursday evening, Charlie (older son) was listening (via t’Internet) to a band from New Jersey called The Gaslight Anthem. I was puzzled – not an unusual occurrence - assuming that would be the name of a song. I mean, ‘Anthem’? That’s a clue, surely? But no; that is the name of the band and very ‘Jersey ’ they are too. They sing about disappointment in its many forms; especially where urban wastelands, highways and cars are involved. All very Bruce Springsteen, appropriately enough considering. Like they say, “New Jersey
The Gaslight song involved some particularly fraught encounter in, or on, the backseat of a burned-out car. (It’ll be called ‘Backseat’ if you want to pursue your interest further). The next song he selected was ‘Old White Lincoln’. Again it involved a car, not the assassinated Civil War President who was, indeed, old, white and Lincoln. The lyric offered homage, of a kind, to one of those vastly indulgent cars that lurched along America
But, if you are not aware of being ‘stuck’ are you therefore necessarily, ‘un-stuck’? And, what does it mean to be ‘un-stuck’? Could things be about to go wrong, as in, “to come unstuck”? I certainly hope not because Conrad (yes, him again) is very much a not-stuck type of person and, incidentally, a promising not-stuck painter in oils too. This week he and his band - BLACK MANILA - have launched their first record. Yes, it’s one of those proper old-style recordings on vinyl! I’ve got a copy, right here on the desk next to me; can’t play it of course because we no longer have a turntable. There’s progress for you. The two songs on the disc are Reno Rush and Happiness. Of Reno Rush I know nothing but I am confident that ‘Happiness’ will not be any sort of homage to Ken Dodd. Nor do I expect it to revisit that scene in ‘There’s a Girl in My Soup’[2] where Goldie Hawn and Peter Sellers arrive at a hotel in the South of France. The porter, assuming them to be honeymooners, shows them to their suite and bows out saying, in his best, most carefully rehearsed, English, “May you ‘ave ‘ap-penis orl your alife.”
Check out these latest sounds (as they say) on t’Internet, pop-pickers. Try the band’s own location http://blackmanila.bandcamp.com/ . Archivists may wish to know that ‘Black Manila’ were formerly ‘Black Manila Beach Parade’ and before that ‘WolfGangInBerlin’. The ‘InBerlin’ suffix being added, I presume, to avoid any confusion with the late Wolfgang Amadeus etc. Oh, and before that even they were 'Stazi-Static', I kid you not. I cannot fathom the origins of Black Manila as a name or, more recently, how the ‘Beach Parade’ came to be dropped. The word ‘Manila’ always makes me think first of envelopes and then of a 1950’s comic telling the adventures of a team of US Navy frogmen based in Manila, capital of the Philippines. Manila Menfish the heroes were called. Anyone out there still remember them?
Some weeks ago I tried hinting to Conrad that Menfish sounded like a great name for a band. I was rightly ignored. I mean, what the hell do I know about stuff? “And don’t go challenging Darwinism with your counter-evolutionary daydreams, Dad. Get back on the bus. You’ll be wanting us to listen to Neil Young next!”
Ah Neil, now you're talking; the master shoe-gazer par excellence...
Next week: Falling down stairs – it’s a bi-focal thing.
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